Draw
by TheVulpineHero1
Summary: A collection of drabbles using Tarot cards as prompts. Written for a friend. Pairings vary with chapter. Will eventually be 78 prompts.
1. XIV: Temperance

A/N: This MLP story goes out to my IRL brony friend (who knows who he is), as a thank-you for his continued support of my little writing hobby. It's also an excuse for me to try out this particular prompt set, and practice the characterisations for Speak, which is always a plus.

Here's the rub: seventy-eight prompts, one for each tarot card, drawn in a random order from a pre-shuffled deck. Short pieces, with no limits on pairing or characters (although I've been practically ordered to throw in some Bic Mac/Fluttershy and Twixie) and no _real_ limit on word counts, although ostensibly there probably won't be many that breach two thousand. I'll name the Tarot card at the beginning of each chapter. Without further ado, let's begin!

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><p><em>XIV: Temperance<em>

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><p>It was an understatement to say that working together was not something Applejack and Rarity did well.<p>

So when they did, it was understandable that most other ponies took some...precautions. Mostly involving a very, very secure room located several miles outside the prospective blast radius. Arguments between Applejack and Rainbow Dash were explosive, but arguments between Rarity and Applejack were nothing short of volcanic.

Twilight Sparkle was not most other ponies. She was, surprisingly, Twilight Sparkle, and she feared no argument (at least not with anything smaller than a dragon). She was also fairly new to Ponyville, and thus did not recognise the signs of an incoming AJ versus Rarity grudge match- locked doors, closed windows, and Pinkie Pie installing an underground bunker in Sugar Cube Corner. She did not notice that dust danced on the deserted streets of Ponyville, cavorting in graceful maelstroms produced by the fell wind that had fallen upon the town. She even ignored the fact that open/closed sign on Rarity's boutique had been replaced by some conscientious pony with one saying 'Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.' All she knew was that Spike had sneezed on her scarf, and she wanted a new one that was prettier, and preferably not quite as on fire.

However, when she opened the door and saw Applejack wrestling furiously with a sewing machine, she was not so foolish as to not feel a vague and dreadful sense of panic.

"I still can't see why ya'll didn't just corral Fluttershy into helpin' ya out. She's got the freaky sewing knowledge and all," Applejack grumbled. There were beads of sweat forming on the pony's forehead, and her tail looked frazzled.

"Fluttershy and I have certain stylistic disagreements," Rarity sniffed, using magically animated scissors to cut through a swathe of cloth.

"What y'all mean is she's better at it than you," Applejack grinned through gritted teeth.

"What I 'all mean' is there's only so much French couture one pony can withstand," the unicorn shot back, lifting the fabric and scanning it critically with an expert eye.

Twilight thought, very seriously, about escaping. It seemed the wisest course. But it wouldn't really be very nice of her, and besides, it left the issue of today's letter. 'Dear Princess Celestia, today I learned that when your friends are helping each other out, the best thing to do is hit the deck before something bad happens.' She didn't think it would wash. A quick egress, then, was out of the question; she would just have to brave the storm.

"Hi, girls. Did I come at a bad time?" she asked. Rarity dropped her fabric and Applejack almost lost control of the sewing machine. Apparently, they hadn't heard her come in.

"Oh, _darling_, of course not! There are no bad times among friends, you know, none at all, in fact I can't think of a better time!" Rarity replied, running over to her and fixing her with a manic grin. It didn't take the penny long to drop.

"Does this mean I'm being...um...'corralled'?" Twilight asked uncertainly.

"Why, no, of course not, don't be ridiculous, I couldn't, although, I suppose, if you wouldn't mind-"

"She means yes," Applejack deadpanned. "Pull up a sewing machine and git started, Twi."

"I didn't know you could sew, Applejack," she confessed, doing as instructed.

"Ah can't. But ah can use one of these here machines plenty well enough. It's jest straight lines, right? Like ploughin', 'cept more finicky," Applejack explained. "Plus, Rarity made me this here picture to work from. It's got altogether too many numbers fer my likin', but it works just fine."

The diagram was passed over, and Twilight found herself agreeing. The dimensions of _everything _were listed, including things they had no control over, and all down to five or six decimal points. Rarity's attention to detail had clearly not diminished.

"So, why did she ask you, anyway? I mean, no offense, but I wouldn't think you'd be Rarity's first choice for this kind of thing," Twilight asked sheepishly. In the background, there was a minor light show and about forty pieces of cloth circling Rarity. This, she dutifully ignored.

"Neither did I. But, what with her and Fluttershy's 'stylistic disagreements', ah guess I was the only one left. Rainbow and Pinkie ain't exactly cut out fer this kind o' work. And y'all are so busy studyin' that it'd feel bad to disturb ya. So, I guess I was the proverbial bottom of th' barrel," Applejack laughed, not at all bitterly.

"That's ridiculous, darling, and you know it!" Rarity called from somewhere within the tornado of half-compiled clothing. "You're such a terrific worker, you know, a little lax on the detail but certainly expedient. And you're so _good_ at reminding me not to lose focus and begin a new masterpiece."

"Yeah. Twenty dresses by tonight and this loco unicorn wants to start tryin' out upside-down cross-back blanket stitches or some such nonsense. There's inspired, and then there's jest _asking_ fer it," Applejack muttered darkly.

"Oh, but it'll be just terrific, wait and see! With you two at my side, I could make _forty_ dresses!" Rarity cackled, the storm of silk abating for a moment so four resulting dresses could be placed on hangers. Twilight groaned. Something told her she was in for a long day.

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><p>As they began to finish up, Rarity looked over their work critically, pacing as she did. Each individual seam was appraised by an expert eye, one that scoured for aesthetic perfection in everything it saw.<p>

"This seam, here. Applejack, it's so very poor! How could you let this one slip through?" Rarity cried, pointing out an obviously loose thread on an otherwise perfect dress.

"It's only one seam, Rarity. It'll hold together fine enough," the earth pony replied, not without a hint of exasperation.

"_Hold together?_" Rarity's voice turned shrilly as she spoke, and her flaring nostrils spoke of equal parts fear and outrage. "This dress is meant to be a _masterpiece_, a statement of pure perfection for the purchaser! It is an outward expression of their inner beauty! Even the smallest flaw cannot be permitted!"

"Well, excuse me fer bein' practical. Ah shoulda known you'd make a big deal over nothing 'fore the day was through," Applejack replied, visibly bristling.

"And _I _should have realised that you're altogether too coarse to understand the rigours of the profession!" Rarity screeched back. "This dress will have to be done again, from scratch!"

"Well, y'all can do it yerself, since you're the only one prissy enough to do it right!"

"I _shall_! Hmph!"

Bewildered the argument about to reach critical point, Twilight settled for checking the dress herself to see how bad it really was. With a sinking heart, she began to recognise the fabric.

"Uh...Girls? I made this one," she said, and felt the air in the shop grow uncomfortably close and tense. There was an ugly, predatory silence, like the silence of a dragon as it decides whether to eat you raw or smoked.

"_You_ made this? But, darling...I thought you could sew!" Rarity gasped at last.

"No. Whatever made you think that? I was using magic most of the way through to help correct my mistakes," Twilight explained gently. "That one was the first one I tried, before I realise sewing's _hard_."

There was another silence, although this one was of a definably more embarrassed character.

"Applejack, you have my greatest apologies. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions," Rarity said at last, pawing the ground bashfully with her hoof.

"And ah shouldn't have been so quick to pick a fight," Applejack grinned, extending a hoof. "Friends?"

There was a pause, in which Twilight was honestly a little scared Rarity would say no.

"You didn't spit on your hoof this time, did you...?" Rarity asked at last. Applejack simply broke out laughing. Hesitantly, Rarity shook.

"The dress _will_ still have to be done again, of course, but as it's only one dress I shall attend to it myself. I've certainly caused enough discord already today," she said after a while. Twilight found herself blushing in embarassment. In a way, the whole argument had been her fault.

Applejack seemed unperturbed. "Sure. Remember now, y'all gotta give me some help next Applebuck season for this."

"Oh, that's right! Of course I'll help, darling, of course. And you, Twilight! I owe you for your help today as well," Rarity said, glowing at the chance to practice her oft-praised generosity. "Perhaps a little fashion advice? I have a corset that's just so _you_, dear-"

Quickly, Twilight stopped her before things got into dangerous territory. "N-no, that won't be necessary. But, well, actually..."

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><p>There was a certain nervousness in the air when she left the shop, the dresses complete and fond farewells still ringing in her ears. Night had started to fall on Ponyville, but everypony was out on the streets, making up for the time they had spent hiding. It was looking to be a chilly walk home, but her new scarf (pink and lilac stripes, very soft but made out of some weird material Applejack had insisted Rarity use- a demand to which Rarity had strangely agreed to without argument) was at least keeping her neck warm. She was surprised, though, when she saw Spike running towards her.<p>

"What's the matter, Spike? Has something happened?" she asked.

"Oh, Twilight, I was so worried about you! I heard you went to Rarity's house and that Applejack was there, and everypony said you were gonna get hurt!" Spike wailed, then sniffed. His cold hadn't abated, and the cold night air wasn't helping things.

"Well, they were both there. But why would I get hurt?" she wondered aloud.

She was interrupted by Spike drawing in a great lungful of air, and an ominous 'huh- huh-'. She tried, but wasn't quite quick enough, to avoid the 'hachoo!' and the jet of fire that accompanied it. The little dragon was knocked over by the force of his own sneeze, landing nose down in the cobbled street. Luckily, the flame wasn't nearly so strong the sneeze, so Twilight was relatively unharmed. Her scarf, on the other hand...

"Completely unscathed. A fire-retardant scarf, huh? Nice call, Applejack," she grinned, as Spike looked up at her mournfully. "Come on, Spike. We ought to get home, out of the cold. We can use those sneezes to heat up the hot water bottles."

"No sympathy for a dragon in distress," he muttered, slowly getting up. Twilight sighed, and with a deft magical twist, wrapped her new scarf around his neck, and told him not to damage it.

After all, she thought, it may only have been a scarf, but it was also proof that even the most unlikely of ponies could work together and do the impossible. Not only that, but they could make scarves, too.

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><p>AN: Kinda stuck for a decent ending there. Oh well. Note: I added a scene for a reviewer.


	2. Eight Of Swords

A/N: Whilst I'm here, I should probably attend to matters of legality. Ahem: this work, which you're reading, right now, is illegal under the laws of practically every country that gives two figs about copyright. Producing it is frowned upon as one of the most socially unacceptable things you can do in terms of nerdiness. It is, in accordance with the morals with which society has been instilled, wrong.

But I don't care and Hasbro doesn't care either, because it's free advertising and you'd have to be a pretty dumb pony to turn that kind of opportunity down. So, rest assured: I've broken the law and used characters I don't own, but there is no lawyer sitting across my street with a stern expression and a sawn-off shotgun. Thanks for your time!

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><p><em>Eight Of Swords: Restriction<em>

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><p>There are times in life when you feel trapped, completely and utterly- times when, no matter how far or fast you run, the long arm of fate will drag you bodily back to the problem and rub your face in it until either it goes away or your face erodes. Ponykind, in their great wisdom, have manufactured a way to instil this feeling into another pony at will.<p>

They call it the art of the double-dare. And it is an evil, soul-sucking, pride-destroying technique that hangs like a black shroud over every sleepover, ever.

"Come on, Rainbow Dash. You can do it. You're not...chicken, are ya?" Applejack grinned slyly.

"I'd rather be a chicken than an earth pony. At least I could still fly," she bit back, but without real venom. It was Twilight she was really annoyed at. Why'd she have to dredge up that old 'anypony can walk on clouds' spell, anyway, and who'd volunteered her house for the sleepover?

"But you're not a chicken, silly. You're a pegasus. Peg-a-sus. Remember?" Pinkie Pie said blithely, toying with the bottle that they'd been spinning. She'd gotten out of her dare on a technicality, mainly because Dash had dared her to jump out of the window and she'd looked like she was actually going to do it. This prompted a ten minute wrestling match to keep her from plunging earthwards, which eventually culminated in Fluttershy telling them all, very firmly, to sit down. Wisely, they all had.

"Don't _do_ it, Rainbow Dash! It's not worth it. _Nothing_ could be worth it!" Rarity advised, somewhat melodramatically. She was right, though. It was only pride, after all, and she could do without-

"Aw, man," Dash muttered to herself, finally picking up the implements of her own doom. She could _not_ live without pride. No way.

"Gosh, Rainbow Dash. You're so brave. I hope you survive," Fluttershy added less-than-helpfully. Rainbow Dash gulped. The pressure was starting to get to her.

"Yeah. I don't want to tick 'bury dead friend' off my sleepover checklist. I'm pretty sure it's not even in the book," Twilight said critically. "Hey, are you sure you're okay? You look like you're about to drop it."

Rainbow Dash shook her head quickly. Between trembling lips, she held a bag of nachos.

"Now there goes a brave pony! C'mon, gals, let's all cheer her on so she doesn't weasel out," AJ hollered, and the rest of the ponies agreed.

With the rest of the girls following her footsteps, there was simply no way out. She was well and truly trapped. Never before had the art of the double dare seemed so fearful to her. Inwardly, she vowed vengeance. Against Applejack, mostly.

Although, ironically, she kind of accepted that it was all her fault. Decorating really wasn't her strong suit, was it, and why didn't she just pick a different theme for her house, maybe one that wasn't so deliciously pun-based?

But there was nothing for it. So, with the trot of the newly condemned, she made her way through the house and out of the door, to where her final demise awaited her.

"I always wondered why you had a rainbow pouring out of your wall, Rainbow Dash. Now it all makes sense!" Pinkie Pie called. She groaned in response, and shook open the bag of nachos.

"Twilight, do the honours if'n you'd be so kind," Applejack said grandly, and with a small twinge of magic, the nacho bag was wrested from Rainbow Dash's grip. Soon, the nachos had been brought forth, flying like magical corn-based birds in the grip of Twilight's arcane might. One, the largest, rose slowly, and then soared skywards- before plunging into the pool of rainbow. Then, it returned, and hovered in front of Dash's mouth, as she mournfully prepared herself to taste the rainbow.

Slowly and carefully, she took the smallest bite she possibly could. And then the world exploded in a shower of colour and light and she didn't even know it was possible for taste buds to scream and how could the colours still be there if everything had gone black and what was wrong with her stomach-

She awoke to find the rest of the gang looking over her with evident concern. Six colours floated hazily as spots in front of her eyes, so she imagined a seventh to go with it and all was well. Her jaw had set like an iron vice, holding the rest of the nacho like a tiny rainbow sail above her mouth. Her wings ached under her. She could hear the others speaking, but their voices seemed to float, to boom and whisper randomly so she couldn't quite make it out.

Then she blinked, and Pinkie Pie's face was hovering inches above her, too close, unbearably close, so she could see her eyelashes and the individual curls in that frizzy mane of hers and oh gosh it was getting closer and the rainbow spots wouldn't stop appearing in front of her eyes and everything was just going wrong.

Oblivious to Rainbow Dash's palpitations, Pinkie Pie carefully took the nacho out of her friend's teeth, before crunching it down herself. For just a split-second, every hair in her mane stood straight in shock, then immediately curled back into its regular arrangement.

"Wow, Pinkie Pie...I can't believe you did that," Fluttershy said in awe.

"It's not that bad, once you get used to it," Pinkie half-sang. "I think rainbows are an acquired taste."

"Shouldn't we make sure Dash is okay? She looks...shocked," Twilight said cautiously. Something stirred in the pegasus as she saw a thinly glimmering chance to regain her dignity.

"O-of _course_!" she shouted, jumping to her feet a lot faster than was wise. "I mean, wouldn't you be shocked after a close encounter with the Pinkie kind?"

"But, you keeled over before Pinkie even came near ya," AJ pointed out.

"I-I was just being dramatic! Y'know, put on a show for you guys, that sorta thing! The nachos were _nothing!_ I just didn't expect Pinkie to just come looming down and..."

"And what?" Pinkie asked with perfect innocence, whilst carefully eyeing the remaining nachos, as if they might escape.

"And...just, and, Pinkie. Just and," Dash sighed, giving up. At least she had the pleasure of devising one hundred and one dares to get back at Applejack- and it was her turn to spin the bottle next.

The bottle, of course, landed on Fluttershy. Who, when dared to do a triple loop-de-loop whilst wearing AJ's hat, didn't take it well at _all_...

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><p>AN: It's official: I've forgotten how to write a decent ending. Thank me later.


	3. King Of Wands

_King Of Wands_

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><p>In the depths of the night, when everypony was sleeping quietly and a sea of clouds drifted over the calm face of the mareless moon, Applejack was awoken by the deep, bass echo of something crashing in the farmyard.<p>

Sweet Apple Acres wasn't a place where crashes happened. Few things they owned made crash-worthy noises. Apples didn't make a crash. Trees didn't make a crash. Apple carts didn't make a crash, provided Applebloom could be kept at least ten feet away from them at all times. And as her little sister was currently snoring loud enough for all Equestria, the chances of her upsetting an apple cart were slim to none.

In short, they had a thief.

A cold tingle running the length of her spine, Applejack went to rouse Big Mackintosh, only to find him already awake and alert, an uncharacteristically stern expression on his face. His mane was a ridiculous web of gnarls and tangles, as was hers, most likely, but there were other things to worry about. In silence, they looked at each other and agreed: there was a thief on their farm, although not for long if they had anything to say about it.

From the house they crept, and into the cool night air. Big Mac quietly secured the door, the locks slipping soundless into place. There was no way he was letting a thief anywhere near Applebloom, or Applebloom near a thief, for that matter. Applejack followed, her lariat clenched between her teeth, ready for her to use at a moment's notice. She was surprised to find that she was trembling.

In truth, she was more angry than scared. The orchard, with its wide, rolling hills and its palette of myriad reds, greens and browns, was the sanctuary that she and her family and her family's family had helped build. To have it desecrated, invaded by some no-good apple thief, was more than she could stand. But if Big Mac was angry, it didn't show; his features were carefully blank, blunted by the night.

The night itself was a picture of blackness. No stars studded the night sky, and the moon still hid shyly beyond the clouds. The darkness was almost tangible, tar-like and sticky, coating everything in a thick veil. Each sound seemed magnified a hundredfold, mere whispers turning into hurricane hows, and the shuffling of hooves across the dusty farmyard into the roar of the ocean. Big Mac tossed his head next to her, a signal; she was to be ready with her lariat. Then, slowly, cautiously, he began to creep through the yard, inspecting every hay bale, pitchfork and bucket. His progress was agonisingly slow, but there was a certain inevitability about his motions. No matter what was there, he would walk towards it unflinchingly, and never falter a single step.

After a minute, Applejack became aware of something. The sound of Big Mac's steps didn't quite match the motion. It was very, very close, but the noise of hooves persisted just half a second after every step. Her blood froze in her veins. The thief was out there, moving, and knew they were there, too.

Her brother seemed unaware of the development, and if she raised her voice to warn him, the thief would be sure to flee. But what if the thief wasn't sneaking away? What if the thief were sneaking towards them, to eliminate the witnesses? For a moment, she wrestled with the dilemma, but in the end it was hardly a choice. It wasn't worth risking their safety to catch one little thief. She took a deep breath, ready to shout to her brother.

But before she set up the cry, she noticed something- a patch of black that was just a bit blacker than the rest, one that was moving stealthily towards the exit. Almost imperceptible, it was so close to her that it was laughable. Carefully, oh so carefully, she readied her lariat. A second to aim, and then-

With a deft flick, she set the rope soaring, the leather whistling ominously at it shot through the air. Jerking sharply as it fell, she pulled the rope taut, and felt it- glorious tension as the rope bound itself around flesh.

"...!"

Whoever or whatever it was, it began to struggle ferociously against the rope. Of all the moves to have made, this was possibly the most foolish, because the motion attracted the attention of Big Mac. Discarding his glacial speed, he set up a gallop through the blackness, hooves thundering across the dusty yard. The struggles increased as the felon grew frantic, and Applejack dug her hooves into the mud to keep from being pulled off her feet. And then, with a surreal suddeness, the struggles stopped, and a tiny pinprick of white light appeared in the gloom. Quickly it built, becoming a cone of coronal brilliance, illuminating a cloak, a mantle, drawn tightly around a ponylike form, and then there was a soft, gentle whoosh-

And Applejack's lariat closed tightly around empty space.

All but growling in frustration, she threw her hat to the ground with a jerk of her head. Wisely, she refused the urge to stomp on it.

"Dang-nabbit! Looks like our rustler was a unicorn!" she spat bitterly.

"Eyup," Big Mac replied. "Now, AJ, don't you worry none. You done mighty fine work tonight."

"Ah guess. I almost had 'em! Now we gots to wait for sun up and figure out what they took," she said sadly, her head bowed. The weight of failure pressed heavily upon her.

"Eyup. Just because we got us a thief doesn't mean we need to lose out on shuteye. We're sure to have a big day tomorrow," Big Mac said calmly, beginning to walk back to the house. For a moment, she could feel his warmth through air the colour of india ink. But the moment passed, and she followed him morosely to the house, certain that she'd never get to sleep.

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><p>"Gosh darn it! I plumb can't find what they took! What kind of rotten, no-good apple thief comes to a farm and then doesn't steal any apples?" she huffed, scanning the trees.<p>

"Maybe, if he's a rotten, no-good apple thief, he took all the rotten, no-good apples? Ah'll go check the trees on the worst soil," Applebloom suggested innocently, then took off. In the light of day, the farm looked no different than it normally did; there was no evidence of the events the night before.

"AJ, lookee here," Bic Mac said, strolling over. "I think I done found what they took."

"Really? Lessee what the damage comes out to," she said, and gritted her teeth.

He led her (a little too leisurely, she thought) to their very best stand of trees. The soil was springy and full of life, and the air was some of the freshest for miles around. As she looked through the stand, she couldn't see anything different- the same apples with their subtle blends of greens and reds, the same trunks with their sturdy, rugged wood. And then, she saw it.

"What in tarnation...?" she asked the sky and soil, her jaw hanging open.

One of the trees on the edge of the strand had been stripped. Not just of apples, but of leaves and of branches. All that was left was a naked trunk of gnarled wood, oddly vulnerable to the elements without the flourishing greenery to protect it. It would almost certainly die, if it hadn't already. There was a great loneliness about it, a sadness she couldn't define. Whoever could have done this to a defenseless tree was either a savage, or...something worse entirely.

"Bro? Who could've done this?" she asked. He didn't answer. Instead, he took something carefully out of his saddlebag.

"Whoever owns the other half of this," he said, his voice muffled by the carved wooden mask he held in his teeth. It had a contorted grin, too wide and too thin. She looked at it with cold disgust.

"I don't know who did this, or what they're plannin', but somepony's gonna pay for this!" she snarled.

In a sky dyed cerulean blue, the sun shone down with neither sympathy nor pity. A chill wind blew through the trees as Applejack took the mask from her brother, and walked slowly away.

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><p>AN: The court cards are going to be somewhat of a challenge in this collection. Y'see, they generally refer to a person, rather than a theme or event. And there really aren't enough ponies with fleshed out enough characters to fill them all. So, instead, I'm making them into a little plotline, separate from the rest of the little dribbles and drabbles. The King Of Wands refers to an athletic man who is fair, kind and generous, possibly a business. I decided, somewhat arbitrarily, that Applejack fit this best (fair probably meaning honest, and disregarding the 'man' criteria), so that's why she kicks off the story.

Also, in case anyone asks: I _am_ correct in referring to Applejack's rope as a lariat. There is no such thing as a lasso; lasso is the verb referring to trapping something with a lariat. Usually, a lariat would be made with tanned rawhide, but that's basically leather for all intents and purposes, so that's the word I used. (I am inexplicably knowledgeable about lariats and bullwhips.) Although, seeing as the majority of the cows speak and probably don't like to be skinned, how would they get the rawhide to make the lariat? Questions, folks, that don't need to be answered.


	4. Nine Of Pentacles

_Nine Of Pentacles: Comfort_

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><p>Sheltered from the scathing wind by thick bluffs of dust-rounded rock on the east side, built from planks of scraggy cedars, checker barked junipers and dwarf pines that grew in the very heights of the river basin to the south, Appleloosa was a town that was not cowed by the fierce and majestic desert in which it had been built. Later, after years or even decades, those small buildings would be slowly and gradually replaced by new ones, hewn from the springy wood of fallen apple trees. Then, with careful management, the cedar trees would become their source of firewood, to warm them when no clouds trapped the heat from the desert sun. Beyond that, no one knew what the future held: just getting to that point would be more than enough.<p>

Sheriff Silverstar looked upon it all, and was pleased.

Not that he showed it. His smiles and his frowns were hidden behind his fine, coarse moustache, his sharp eyes concealed by the brim of his hat. Even if it hadn't been so, the lines of his face were cautiously neutral and inscrutable. Although the folk of Appleloosa were by a long spit the most honest and trustworthy he'd met, he was still Justice in these parts. And he knew well that Justice _always_ kept a straight face. Which was why he was practising so _very, very_ hard.

"Sheriff Silverstar! Ah got one! A letter!" Braeburn shouted, rushing into the sheriff's office. "And it was on time!"

In lieu of a reply, Silverstar gave a cursory twitch of his moustache.

"Ah'm plumb excited, Sheriff, and tain't no lie, neither! A good, reliable mail service puts a town on the map, y'see, and ah reckon-"

"A-_huh_. Simmer down, Braeburn. I ain't seen you so riled since the Mild West dances took off, and thet's no lie," Silverstar admonished, but with a paternal pleasure in his otherwise squeaky voice. His voice was, perhaps, his greatest failing as a sheriff. "Wal, since y'all are makin' such a ruckus about it, y'ought to at least tell me what's in the letter."

"Aw, shucks, Sheriff. It ain't anything too big. Just a letter from my cuz, Applejack. You met her back a ways, when the buffalo attacked," returned Braeburn, dipping his hat. The sheriff twitched his moustache again. He recollected that mare well enough.

"Wal, shore I knowed it was from one o' your kin. You'd be no Apple if'n yer family weren't fixin' to meddle in your life," Silverstar said crisply. "But it sure beats the other way round, if you get my hunch. The desert's no place to git lonesome."

He stood slowly, easing himself off the wooden chair, arranging his vest and bandanna. "Wal, come on. Y'all can keep me company on my rounds t'day. Sheriffs get lonesome, too."

Dragging a bemused Braeburn behind him, the sheriff stepped out of the office. His hoofsteps reverberated pleasing on the sturdy floorboards of his porch, and once more he thanked the stars above that the little town of Appleloosa was still standing tall. There was the sound of wheels scraping to a halt from the station, and instantly Braeburn started talking.

"Look, Sheriff- somepony's gittin' off the train! I gots to go and-"

"-scare the willies outta them poor city ponies? Yer enthusiasm is cute, Braeburn, but y'oughta learn to pipe down a little sometime," the sheriff grinned under his moustache.

"But what if they don't see all the wonderful things Appleloosa has to offer?" Braeburn returned, visibly concerned.

"Wal, ah'm not sure about you, but I reckon the wonders of Appleloosa are self-evident to any observant pony. And if'n they're too busy to see 'em, well, a good riddance is what I say. M'not too fond o' strangers anyhow," he shrugged, and turned left onto main street.

"But, Sheriff! I just gots to show them the horse drawn horse drawn carriages 'fore they miss 'em-"

"You do, Braeburn, and I'll deputise you on the spot!" Silverstar barked.

"But, Sheriff! I'm not cut out to be no deputy. My heart's not in tusslin'."

"Shucks, Braeburn. Y'all don't need to tussle to be a sheriff. All you needs to be a sheriff is a sense of right 'n wrong, an' maybe listen to it once in a while," Silverstar returned, voice returning to calm neutrality. "'n every town needs a good sheriff. I know that from hard ex'perience."

That was no lie. He still remembered the failed frontier town of Mustang, where he'd once lived. For a year or two, it'd been a swell place, everypony banding together to stave off the harsh advance of the sand. But then the lawlessness had set in, hard and fierce, and the wandering broncos with the sharp, cold eyes started coming around, fast to buck and quick as lightning when they did. The place lasted a full six months before all the decent folk left, and fell into decay. It still stood as a ghost town, a monument to the baser instincts of ponykind. And all for want of a good sheriff. Well, he wasn't going to let it happen to Appleloosa for as long as he lived, even longer if he could manage it.

"Sheriff, y'all are awful quiet. Did ah say something wrong?" Braeburn asked, frowning.

"Naw. Ah was just recollectin' the past. Pay it no heed, son. Jest listen here," the sheriff said slowly. "Look around y'self, Braeburn. This here town's a marvelous place, but fer all its wonders it's jest like a foal. It needs protectin', and it needs fine stallions like you and me to do it."

"Wal, shore. No way I'd ever let _any_pony ruin Appleloosa!" Braeburn replied passionately, taking his hat off.

"It's good fer a pony's heart to hear you say that, Braeburn. It's a hard life fer those thet come here, but truth be told it's the only place I've ever felt comf'table. There's something to be said fer that," the sheriff said, and gazed upwards at the desert sun from under the brim of his hat. There was no cloud to protect them from that fierce heat, no squall to shield them. But life still thrived under that glaring blaze. And whilst life remained in Appleloosa, he would be there to protect it.

* * *

><p>AN: I felt a very strong need to address the Appleloosans sooner or later in the collection, mainly because of my ill-advised belief that Sheriff Silverstar is secretly a total BAMF. I took most of my accenting (as well as notes on the setting) from the works of Zane Grey, who for all intents and purposes is father of the cowboy novel. (The setting is based on Arizona, by the way. Not the _most_ desert-like setting, but of course ponies maintain the environment for themselves, and such trees as grow in Arizona would probably be fine choices for the reforestation of a desert, given a shot of unicorn magic. I know it's a far cry from the empty desert in the cartoon, but I decided to expound the setting in a realistic way to help my description.)

If anyone's wondering why I'm running so very slowly at the moment: I've just finished my introductory week of University. So, that's been eating up a lot of time and energy.


	5. Nine Of Wands

_Nine Of Wands: Resilience_

* * *

><p>There are times in life when even the most resourceful pony has to admit that the odds are well and truly against her. Now, in Twilight's opinion, was one of those times.<p>

The problem was that Applejack's birthday was approaching, and preparations for a surprise party were in full swing. However, there were a number of stumbling blocks. Firstly, a birthday in the Apple family was as good as a reunion, so they had to cater to as many of the Apples as showed up. And they had to invite them all, even the ones they hoped _wouldn't_ show up, like Apple Crunch, who was by far the scariest pony any of them had ever seen. At the last family reunion, Rainbow Dash had taken one look at him and pronounced him a murderer. Disbelieving, Twilight had asked other members of the Apple family and was told he wasn't a murderer, he was a _habitual_ murderer, and that just because he'd done terrible, terrible things that nopony should even contemplate, it didn't make him any less family.

Much more threatening than Apple Crunch, however, was the cake. Because Pinkie Pie was in charge of party preparations, Rarity was in charge of décor and asking Applejack to bake her own birthday cake was just a _little_ bit bold, Twilight had been 'assigned' (read: frog-marched to the kitchen and all but manacled to the stove) their baker. Her first thought was to ask why Rainbow Dash or Fluttershy couldn't do it, but the answers were blindingly obvious. Fluttershy would be afraid of ovens and Rainbow Dash would get bored and let the cake burn, so she was it.

"We don't exactly _know_ how old she is, so just keep adding candles until you smell the ceiling burning," Rainbow Dash said casually before exiting from the window, and that set the tone, really.

The problem with cake was that it didn't seem to be subject to the laws of physics, nature or even magic. It was only subject to the law of cake, and once you put it in the oven it did pretty much whatever it wanted, no matter how implausible. Her first attempt had failed to rise in a truly spectacular manner, and was promptly confiscated by the Equestrian Astrological society to see if there was, in fact, a small black hole in the centre that was pulling the rest of the cake into it.

It didn't help that her instructions on cake-making came directly from Pinkie Pie. The earth pony had provided a cheat sheet of ten instructions, with the assurance that they would result in a perfect cake. As could be expected, three of the instructions seemed to have been written upside down and the rest simply read 'Add more tambourine!' with varying numbers of exclamation points.

Five attempts in, and Twilight was toying with the idea of drowning herself in the cake mixture. Her latest cake was not turning out well, although on the upside she was fairly sure she had discovered a colour that did not exist in nature, hidden in the icing. She was tempted to scour her library and see if she couldn't find some serviceable baking instructions- maybe a tome or two of forbidden cake lore dredged from the hoary mists of time.

However, as she tossed down her apron and grabbed her keys, she heard an almost Lovecraftian squelch. Slowly and carefully, she turned around to watch with horrified curiosity as Pinkie Pie's head emerged slowly from the mixing bowl.

"Did you add more _tambourine?_" Pinkie whispered softly, eyes furtive.

Twilight nodded mutely, careful to keep an appeasing smile on her face. Despite Pinkie Pie's entry through the mixing bowl, there _was not a single drop of batter on her_.

"Show _meeeeeeeeeeee,_" Pinkie Pie hissed.

Twilight pointed towards her her previous attempts. Pinkie sniffed deeply, like a bloodhound scenting its mark.

"Needs even _more_ tambourine," the earth pony said, before jumping from the mixing bowl, leaving the contents entirely undisturbed. She picked up a wooden spoon and began hitting the cakes at random. As opposed to adding more tambourine.

"Embrace the cake, Twilight. The cake is life. The cake is the _wooooorrrrld!_" Pinkie rasped.

Twilight was then faced with a brief struggle between her rational mind and her very visceral fear of whatever Pinkie was going to do next. Eventually, she settled for trying to make herself look as small as possible in the hopes Pinkie might not notice her.

"Carry on," Pinkie said after a while, and walked out of the room into what Twilight was _fairly_ sure was a chimney. Twilight made a mental note to lay off the magic, if only to allow the laws of physics time enough to curl up in the foetal position and cry, then decided it would probably be a good idea to pour the cake batter away and make a fresh batch. Yes, that would probably be best.

However, Twilight Sparkle knew one thing. Regardless of Pinkie's instructions, the randomness of cake or even the destruction of the world itself, she _would_ keep trying until she got it right. Even if it took her until Applejack's birthday or beyond. And she _would_ take Pinkie's advice, and add more tambourine. Because that was what friendship was all about: believing in your friends no matter how the odds were stacked. That, and making sure Apple Crunch had no excuse to run around murdering people. That was pretty important, too.

But it still felt that there had to be more plausible methods in the great art of cake making. Like there was some sort of trick she wasn't getting. As she took up her spoon once more and assembled her ingredients, she wondered idly if applying a quick lightning spell would cook the cake quicker...

* * *

><p>AN: For this, I'm defining resilience as 'the ability to keep trying, despite having all the odds stacked against you.' Otherwise known as pig-headedness.


	6. Knave Of Swords

_Knave Of Swords_

* * *

><p>There are quite a lot of things you don't want pointed at you. Horns, knives and hooves all make the top ten, but number one has got to be a loaded Applejack with her fuse at an all-time low.<p>

"Now y'all listen here, Twi. Ah'm not accusin' y'all of butchering mah tree, but y'all have to admit, it's suspicious. Who else around here can teleport? Most of us all don't hold no truck with that sort o' hocus pocus," Applejack snarled, the brim of her hat down low over her eyes.

A second ticked by as Twilight mentally translated this. She wondered if it was rude to fetch a book to help her, but eventually she got the gist.

"Applejack," she began, face and eyes open, "Why exactly would I want to butcher your tr-"

"His _name_ was Oakley!" Applejack yelled, and Twilight realised that something very bad had happened. Or was about to.

"-Oakley? I mean, what would I use the wood for? I mean, I have a door. And I don't have a log fire, because, well, the library is _sort of_ in a tree."

"How would ah know? All I know is that somepony was skulkin' round Sweet Apple Acres last night, and they teleported away just as I got ahold of 'em. Ah only know one unicorn who can teleport, and you're it!"

Twilight frowned. As much as she hated to admit it, Applejack had a point. The evidence- all _one_ pieces of it- seemed to point straight at her. She felt the onset of panic. What if she got put in _prison?_ It wasn't like the movies, where they'd give her twenty four hours to clear her name and find the real criminal. No, it'd just be wham, bam, thank you ma'am, get in the jail cell and rot for the rest of your life if you'd be so kind. And she didn't even have a checklist for going to prison! She began, very quietly, to panic. Spike, having cautiously blended into the background and out of the argument, looked at her knowingly.

"Just so you know," he whispered, "No, you're not too pretty to go to jail."

Twilight's horn flickered, and somewhere upstairs a quill scribbled 'kick Spike' into her checklist.

"Applejack, I haven't done a thing. I have no reason to. But I'm always ready to help a friend in need. We'll look for this tree killer together!" she tried. Applejack lowered an eyebrow and peered at her appraisingly.

"Well, one of your friends has a problem. Isn't that convenient? Now you've got something to write to Princess Celestia about. I noticed nothing had happened this week," Spike chipped in, and Applejack's glare deepened. Upstairs, Twilight's enchanted pencil added the word 'hard'.

"Y'all sure you didn't kill Oakley?" Applejack asked suspiciously, voice rising at the tail end.

"I'd remember it if I did," she deadpanned. Applejack kept glaring for a moment, then huffed a sigh.

"Ah guess I knew already that y'all didn't do it, sugar cube. I just wanted to make sure. Ah mean, if it were you, you'd have a purty good reason," she admitted, taking a step towards Twilight. "But ah could really use your help."

Twilight smiled. Applejack smiled back. Spike didn't. Spike moved about a foot backwards, because he was smart. He'd already learned the ropes of the town, so to speak, and he'd noticed that Twilight was standing in front of an open window. Whenever Twilight stood in front of an open window, there was a twenty percent chance Rainbow Dash would go through it at five bajillion miles an hour. Twenty percent was the only percentage Rainbow Dash knew. To her, twenty percent was as good as a hundred. Spike was expecting a crash.

What he wasn't expecting was for her to come through the roof.

Sometimes, Twilight honestly thought her cutie mark looked the way it did because she spent most of her time seeing stars flutter around her head. It didn't help that Rainbow Dash's rump was on top of it.

"Rainbow Dash! Y'all have to stop doin' that..." Applejack muttered. "How y'all managed to pay for repairs all the time is beyond me..."

"I'm sorry, girls. Some bird brain trimmed my left wing when I was sleeping, and now I keep veering off to one side. When I find the one who did it, I'm gonna show 'em my famous Flying Tombstoner!" Dash groaned, standing up.

"_Some_ ponies use windows to go to and from people's houses," Twilight complained. "I mean, doors."

"Y'all think whoever clipped Rainbow Dash's wings is the one who killed Oakley?" Applejack asked.

"Applejack, that's crazy. It's a coincidence," Twilight said, but it sounded silly even as she did.

"When have y'all ever known _anythang_ around here to be a coincidence? Say, Dash, y'all think it was a unicorn that did it?"

Rainbow Dash thought. "Nope. I was sleeping at home. They would've had to walk on clouds."

"Well, ah know _one_ unicorn with a spell to let her walk on clouds," Applejack muttered, and sent another dark look at Twilight. The unicorn groaned.

"Hey, you guys? It's blatantly someone trying to frame Twilight. I mean, come on. Law of narrative interest," Spike said. The ponies looked at him, and decided that the safest option was to ignore him.

"Well, we'd better get goin' if we're gonna catch this crook. Rainbow Dash, you in?" Applejack asked.

"You bet. I'll race ya!" the pegasus replied, and, in a rare move, left the house through the door. Applejack followed at a gallop.

"Hey! Aren't you gonna do anything about the hole in the roof?" Spike called as Twilight made to follow them. She stopped, and thought. Her checklist of the morning's work still wasn't ticked off. She had one last thing to do before she left.

She kicked Spike. Hard.

* * *

><p>AN: Not really much I could do to keep with the prompt, which is why this little disconnected storyline comes in handy.


	7. Three Of Wands

_Three Of Wands: Opportunity_

* * *

><p>Silence. Silence that stretched beyond yearning, beyond time, beyond existence. Silence that cloyed and dragged, silence that stifled and choked. Death was not the opposite of life. Death was just the gate to a silence eternal.<p>

Noise, energy. The frenetic beat of heart's drums, the bass boom of passion and the flickering snare of fear. Cruelty and kindness in the same motion, confusion; the spiralling of perception. That was the opposite of silence. That was what he craved.

Slowly, fraction by the fraction, a stone scream became a smirk. He would be free.

All he needed was an opportunity.


	8. Six Of Swords

_Six Of Swords: Travel_

* * *

><p>It was a mistake.<p>

_Don't listen don't listen_

She hadn't meant it. No, that was a lie. She had meant it, with every proton of every atom. But she hadn't meant it like _that_.

_Azure spiral, round and round, one wrong move and the sky falls down_

She steals her sleep in snatches, and wakes in time to hear herself scream. She is so much more now, and so much less.

_Brown broken earth, blue broken wing, green silent forest with her red blood spilling_

Why hadn't she known? Why hadn't anyone told her that this was what she was?

_Orange the sundown, purple the bruise, and pink for the innocence you stood to lose_

A chance accident. Rainbow Dash was flying and then something, maybe a ligament, snapped. She spiralled out of control, a whirling spiral of colour, before crash landing in the nearby forest.

_Louder. Harder. More. Louder. Har__**der**__. __**Mo**__re!_

They found her an hour later. Fluttershy fainted, and she screamed. The same scream she heard every night.

_You'll do anything, will you? How sure of that are you? Keep going. H**ar**der. **More**. You have magic, do**n't you?** What are y**ou waiting for?**_

The wind had howled. The water had stilled. The earth moved. And she screamed through it all, one wordless curse against fate, against the laws of nature. Against everything.

_Magic. Ma**g**ic. M**a**g**ic. Magic. MAGic. MAGIC.**_

Then, the world changed. The leaves tore from the trees, the weeds were plucked from the earth. Light filled everything, and shadows twisted like vines under the glare. There was so much magic she couldn't even withstand it, her horn was just a searing white-hot point in her mind.  
>Finally, to the horror of everypony, a miracle happened.<p>

_Twilight. Where the sun meets the moon. Where darkness meets light. Where one world meets another. You never knew it, did you? That this was your destiny. Whilst you were practising your silly little spells, you never imagined that this was what you were._

_Arise.  
><em>

And then, slowly, Rainbow Dash got up. She spat drops of red, tried to flap a broken wing. Her eyes were dull moons, nothing more than glass beads. You could hardly tell she was alive again. The pegasus fixed her with a broken smile, and said,

"Why, Twilight? I was happy."

_Run, you fool. Run. Don't you know what you've done? Don't you know what you were fashioned to do? This is not the time. Run._

She stands on the cliff, and the wind pushes at her back as if to topple her. The earth crumbles below her hooves. She would have done anything. In the end, she did. Now she needs answers. How did she do what she did? What did she sell to do it, and who to? The questions haunt her. The power haunts her. The gate separating life from death. So much good that could be done, and so much evil too. Good and evil, light and darkness. Where they met, she would go.

Equestria was far away. But not as far as Twilight had gone.

* * *

><p>AN: Yup, I'm playing to the fandom fetish of darkfics. Can't really see much in 'em myself, but to each their own. I tried to keep a fair amount of mystery here.


	9. Ace Of Pentacles

_Ace of Pentacles: Foundations_

* * *

><p>Sweet Apple Acres was a perfectly nice place, full of golden hay bales and strong trees with their vivid autumnal red-and-green-and-gold patchwork, and it was one of the only places in Ponyville that Fluttershy could truly relax. Of course, it wasn't <em>completely<em> safe, because of all those scary farm tools with their blades and their prongs, and there was still the danger of being hit on the head by a falling apple or upsetting one of the leaf piles only to find a _dragon_ hiding under it or of her shadow spontaneously becoming a sentient being and throttling her from behind, but overall, it was one of the safer places in Ponyville to be.

Still, it just wasn't the same without Applejack there. The honest toil the orange pony put in were what made the orchard feel, well, solid; it had been worked on, built from the ground up, constantly and consistently nurtured. On days when she couldn't see Applejack hauling carts of apples up and down the Acres, Fluttershy always felt sad, as though something were missing.

Fluttershy squeaked, and huddled a little closer to the floor of the barn.

"Don't y'all worry none, Miss Fluttershy. AJ's prob'ly on her way back rights now," Big Mac told her in a soothing voice, chewing calmly on a piece of straw. Fluttershy squeaked again.

She didn't really know Big Macintosh too well, if she told the truth. Possibly because he was, well, _big_. Big enough to applebuck even the mightiest apple trees without breaking a sweat. Big enough to plough for hours on end at Winter Wrap-Up without a single complaint. Big enough that he didn't worry about the upcoming storm, or that his sister was out in it.

"Will she be okay?" Fluttershy asked, before lightning cracked to the ground outside in a furious arc of ultrahot light, a peal of thunder following in its wake one, two, two-and-a-half seconds later, so loud the ground seemed to tremble with the sound. The wind moaned its sympathies.

"Eyup. No storm ah've seen yet's been big enough to confound my sis," Big Mac went on laconically. His red coat stood out in the gloom of the closed barn. "A'though, she does take on a mite more than she can chew sometimes."

Fluttershy briefly considered hiding under one of the stacks of hay lying around. She was aware that hay would not protect her from instantaneous electric death via lightning strike, but every little helps. Big Mac turned to look at peer at her with one lazy eye.

"If'n it's right with you, ah'm goin' out fer a spell. I figure you'll be fine so long as y'all leave the door shut after ah go," he said, in the same even tones.

Fluttershy looked at him quite hard then, and tried to decide whether he was crazy, and if so how much. Another lash of lightning flickered to the ground and she decided, right there and then, that he was worth a full 3.5 Pinkies on the crazy scale for wanting to go out in _that_.

"Keep y'self safe now, hear?" Big Mac said as calmly as ever, before opening the barn door to a black world. Rain poured down in a thick curtain, splashing into overflowing puddles on the over saturated farmland. The tang of lightning was in the air, a palpable taste on the tongue. Big Mac took a look to the left, then to the right. Then he shrugged, and trotted into the night.

Fluttershy waited, and whilst she waited, she worried. She worried about the barn roof caving in under the weight of the pounding rain, of the ground outside turning to slick, grasping mud like in the Everfree Forest. She worried about Applejack, a lone dot of orange in the vastness of the storm.

But, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to worry about Big Mac. The fear that he might be struck by lightning, or crushed by a tree, or swallowed by the mud- all of them just seemed a little ridiculous.

"Oh, dear. I must be heartless. If he were a bunny, I'd be out there looking for him," she told herself, but picturing Big Mackintosh as a bunny was a greater strain than her imagination could handle.

The timbers of the roof creaked ominously, sending her scurrying under the hay piles again. It was like an automatic reaction. Like her legs just moved themselves. It scared her, a little, which really didn't help the pure, unadulterated terror she was going through.

_Thump._

Fluttershy tried to repress a squeak as her heart mimicked the noise, thump-thump-thump-thump-thump, beating away furiously in her chest, as if it'd been caught slacking on the job. There was probably something she should be doing, something that a brave and resourceful pony would've done.

_Thump_.

The squeak burst from her throat, and she started to shake. Stupid storms. Stupid bags of chicken feed, running out on the wrong day. She couldn't bring herself to think the chickens were stupid.

_Boom_.

The barn door burst open, Big Mac's massive silhouette filling the frame. Quietly and without hurry, he trotted in and closed the doors after him. His flanks were streaked with black mud, his coat bunched in thick, hanging ropes like weeping willow branches, dripping water with every step.

"Miss?" he asked the barn in a strangely muffled tone. "If'n y'all still here, ah could use your help. Ah founds AJ."

Slowly and carefully, Fluttershy came out of her hiding place. Sure enough, Applejack was draped limply across Big Mac's back, her hat clenched between his teeth.

"What happened?" she asked as he set his sister down gently on a hay pile. "Is she okay?"

"I was hopin' y'all could tell me that," he rumbled. "AJ says you're a fine doctor for the critters."

"Howdy there, Fluddershy," Applejack piped up with a spiralling crack in her voice, "Ah dun caught a branch with mah head."

Sure enough, a large, purple-spotted bruise was emerging. Fluttershy swallowed back her fear of blood and let her natural instincts take over.

"Oh, _my_...We need to lay her down and get a cold compress on her," Fluttershy whispered.

"Thank y'kindly for yer help there, miss-" Big Mac began as he lowered his sister onto one of the large straw piles Fluttershy had been hiding under.

"I meant _now_," Fluttershy said sharply, her matronly side well into swing already. "Please, don't chit-chat when friends are in danger. You should lie down and dry off too. It just wouldn't do to have you catch pneumonia."

Big Mac bowed respectfully, and did as she said. He watched with interest as Fluttershy tore a strip of heavy, coarse cloth from the bags of chicken-feed that had gotten her into this mess and then walked out of the door into the storm. She remained there until the strip (and her) were well and truly soaked, before wringing out the strip and applying it to Applejack's forehead.

"Ah though y'all were afraid of storms," he rumbled.

"Oh, _yes_. I am. But I'm more afraid of Applejack being hurt. I _prioritise_," Fluttershy whispered, and shook out her coat. "Aren't you dry yet, Mr. Big Mac?"

"Eyup," Big Mac nodded, although it was less that he was dry and more that he seemed to have forgotten he was ever wet. "But it's just Big Mac, if'n it's all the same to you."

As another peal of thunder crashed down and restored her fears (with a vengeance), she couldn't help but admire Big Mac. He was the pony all earth ponies were at their heart; the type that could overcome any obstacle and overcome any wound, and then just recover as though nothing had happened. There was something of the land, vast and unbothered by its craters, about him.

Eventually, as with all things, the storm broke. Applejack's concussion lasted only long enough for Rainbow Dash to get some embarrassing sound bites from her (which she repeated as she hovered above AJ's head, ad infinitum, until Applejack conveniently forget to warn her of an overhead branch and got some tasty concussion confessions of her own), and Sweet Apple Acres was left relatively unscathed, save for a few ruffled trees. As always, the land went on.

And Fluttershy found that, the next time she touched down in the fields with their autumn gowns and their heavy, ripe apples dangling from the trees, it was not just a dot of orange on horizon she sought, but a slow, meandering blur of red.

* * *

><p>AN: Ugh. This chapter, man. For the longest time, I have not been able to look at it without feeling physically ill. It came in the middle of a little spell where I was despising everything I wrote, so I'd write a paragraph, hate it, and resolve never to look at the damn thing again for as long as I could. I've only just been able to push through it. I still hate and despise this chapter, though, with a passion. I just want to start the next chapter and begin hating that instead. Here's hoping it won't take nearly so long.


	10. Four Of Swords

_Four Of Swords: Recuperation_

* * *

><p>There are, of course, three r's that every foal in Ponyville is brought up to know. They are rest, relaxation, and Rarity, and woe betide any pony stupid enough to keep them apart. Rarity only rarely lets her hair down (metaphorically of course; having your hair down is the <em>fashion<em>, and if she could just get Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie to sit in the same place for more than five consecutive seconds, she'd teach them the error of their ways).

So Fluttershy knows it is an honour and a privilege to share in Rarity's winding down at the Spa, even if she doesn't quite know what's going through her head sometimes.

"Fluttershy, _darling_," Rarity asks as nonchalantly as physics will allow. "Who do you like?"

"I like _bunnies_," she replies breathlessly, as a pair of skilled hooves do something to her back that, that in any other place, would be physical assault.

"No, I mean romantically," Rarity clarifies, as a burly stallion walks into the room with two sliced cucumbers and a pot of mud.

After almost half a minute of embarrassed stuttering, Fluttershy squeaks and leaves it at that. By the time she's managed it, Rarity has already been transfigured into a horrifying mud-vegetable-pony hybrid by their attendant, who glowers over them.

"No talking," he says, with a thick Stalliongrad accent. "Time for rest."

Later, Rarity insists on going to the newly-refurbished hot springs, 'for a soft and velvety hide, don't you know.' Honestly, Fluttershy isn't so sure; it smells awfully of eggs, and the mist is so thick she can hardly see her hoof in front of her face. If she can't see her hoof, what about other scary things that might be lurking fifteen inches from the tip of her nose?

But eventually, she calms down, and starts to enjoy it; it's like having a soothing, hot bath, only with as much room as you could ever want. With the very tips of her mane drifting across the water, she finally relaxes a little.

Until, suddenly, Rarity.

"I only asked," the unicorn went on, somewhere beyond the veil of fog, "Because I was thinking of the current dynamics of our group."

Fluttershy takes a moment to wonder what in Equestria she's talking about, before remembering the conversation from earlier; she's been tenderised, trimmed, primped and creamed since then in the course of their spa visit.

"You see, I find that lately my work has been disturbed by certain ponies, and I was _think-_ing, that if I were to encourage those ponies to perhaps entertain one another a little more-"

Fluttershy feels a sense of dread that grows with every word and every implication, until it's just a black, roaring herald of _doom _screaming in her ear to _get out, get out now, _and she's so distracted by it that she forgets to listen to whatever insane plan Rarity is brewing until it's almost too late.

"-so, they'd be just _perfect _for one another, and I would get my orders done on time and we could spend more delightful afternoons at the spa together! Wouldn't that just the most fabulous thing?"

"U-um, I'm a little d-dizzy from the heat...who are we talking about, again?" Fluttershy asks, realising that she isn't lying. She's been in the water too long; her mane is spreading over the surface of the water like bright, pink seaweed, waving gently...

"Applejack and Rainbow Dash, dear. Whopony _else_ would I be talking about?"

On the surface of the water, as if in the centre of a crystal ball, Fluttershy sees the waving image of a blue and orange tornado, pitching horseshoes and playing volleyball and doing rope tricks all along the streets of Ponyville, bringing destruction to whatever they touched. She shook it away, and began to wonder how quietly she could leave the spa, and if Rarity would be mad if she did.

"M-meep," she says, because it's as good as anything else she could've said.

"Of course, I just _had_ to ask your opinion, since Rainbow Dash is your childhood friend, after all, and well, how do I put this, if you had _designs_ on her, and there's no need to be embarrassed, we're all very forward thinking ponies here, but if you did, I wouldn't want to trample them just for the sake of a little _rest,_" Rarity carries on, in the tone of voice that suggested she would trample any and all objections for the sake of a little rest.

Fluttershy makes a non-commital squeak, and remembers (quite vividly) Twilight Sparkle saying that everypony in Ponyville was at least a little bit insane. So, she doesn't tell Rarity that her idea is awful and would lead to such vast disturbances that Appleloosa would freeze over before she got any rest. She also does not tell Rarity that Pinkie Pie is currently crushing _desperately_ on her pegasus friend, and given Pinkie's habit of appearing in places that the laws of physics objected to, repercussions could follow very swiftly in the form of itching powder, water balloons and five-o-clock wake up calls performed entirely on the bagpipes.

"I say, Fluttershy, darling, are you shaking? There are ripples on the water," Rarity asks, megalomania leaving her voice. True enough, she is.

After hauling her from the hot springs, a hoof on her forehead to check her temperature, Rarity smiles and tells her that she gets the message in regards to her little 'romantic intervention' idea. Fluttershy continues to shiver.

Everypony knows not to get between rest, relaxation and Rarity. After all, without afternoons in the spa with Fluttershy, Rarity would enact _every_ disastrous 'intervention' that came into her head.

The next day, as usual, Fluttershy relaxes in her own fashion. By wrestling a bear.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, wrote this mainly to combat a lack of Rarity in my work. To be honest, she's the pony of the mane six that I have most problems with; I just don't find her interesting. Be that as it may, I'mma try and work with it.

Also: the four of swords is recuperation in _my_ guide to tarot, but if you browse ye olde interwebs, you will find that it also has links to burials and funerals. As I'm not a big fan of darkfics, I picked the nicer meaning.


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